


Susceptible

by EntreNous



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Common Cold, Confused Spock, Emotions, Grumpy Jim, Head Massage, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Shore Leave, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 04:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: Spock drew himself up, clasping his hands behind his back.  "Captain Kirk, permit me to state the facts.  Your eyes have become glassy, you are not fully attuned to your surroundings, and, as I can attest because we recently touched hands, your palms have begun to perspire.""Yikes," Jim muttered, running his fingers through his hair.  "You sure know how to make a guy feel good, Spock."OR, Spock has a science conference to attend, Jim is a crabby patient who's apt to wander off if he's not watched like a hawk, and there's always an alien equivalent to ginger ale.   With bonus head rubs and accidental feelings!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RowanBaines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines/gifts).



> This is an extremely belated birthday present for the utterly wonderful RowanBaines, a top-notch beta and a fantastic friend! She asked for sickfic and Spirk. Initially I intended this story to be a little ficlet, but man, I almost always fail at keeping things short. So really, let's all be proud of me for reining it in at under 9,000 words! I really hope you enjoy it, Rowan! And I hope Spock's expert head rub is satisfying to all the headache sufferers out there!

"Mister Spock," Lieutenant Qian exclaimed in surprise when Spock boarded the nearly-full shuttle. "You're headed to Jonlow III for shore leave, too?"

Spock took the offered seat next to his Science Department colleague. "As a highly-esteemed Xenobiological Studies conference is currently taking place on that planet, I am indeed traveling to Jonlow III. The Enterprise's plan to hold shore leave there is most fortunate. Might I assume you also propose to attend some of the scheduled lectures?"

"Uh. No?" she answered, her cheeks flushing. "Jones and Khazin and I, um..." and here she gestured to other Science crewmen seated not far from her, who were looking similarly abashed. "We're just doing the regular shore leave. So I hadn't planned on going to any lectures. Not that I don't appreciate a good conference?" Her voice rose at the end, and her eyes darted to her fellows as if seeking input.

Spock tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Would you like me to inquire if you can still gain admission to the conference?"

"Oh," Qian said distantly. "Gosh."

"It's just that we've already purchased tickets for a bunch of other events already," Ensign Khazin broke in.

"Tickets," Yeoman Jones confirmed, nodding several times. "And we wouldn't want to lose the credits."

"Very well." Spock did not press the matter further. When the other three began to elaborate on their complicated-sounding plans, he politely nodded in response to their excited chatter. 

It was only when the shuttle departed, and one of the party leaned down to retrieve something from his duffel bag, that Spock realized that next to the Ensign was seated none other Captain Kirk.

"Captain," Spock greeted him at once to rectify his oversight.

"Oh. Hey, Spock," his captain replied, offering a vague wave in Spock's direction. His slumped position, easily obscuring him behind the ensign, provided some explanation for why Spock had not taken note of him before. 

Though Jim often assumed more relaxed postures than Spock would associate with someone of his rank, this despondent attitude seemed highly unusual. The others seated around them seemed to find nothing remarkable about it, and continued their conversations without pause. Yet to Spock, the strange tableau of Jim staring dazedly ahead at nothing in particular, his arms hugged across his chest, and leaning most of his weight against the shuttle window, certainly seemed worthy of investigation.

Regrettably, due to the animated discussion surrounding them, Spock was unable to make discreet inquiries about Jim's behavior. His colleagues appeared unaware of his concern and blithely included him in talk of the various entertainment venues they planned to visit ("One of them has a laser show that's known the galaxy wide!") and the establishments at which they hoped to dine ("If you can eat twenty-five Jonlowian Slug Puffs in less than an hour, they'll give you another five for free!"). 

Meanwhile, Jim appeared more and more lethargic; his chin actually touched his chest at several points before he jerked slightly in his chair as if startled awake.

At last they docked. Other crewmembers hurried off as soon as passengers were summoned to disembark.

"Jim, are you quite well?" Spock asked as soon as the rest were out of earshot.

"Huh?" Jim had not yet stood. Now he grimaced and rubbed at his right temple. "Sure, I'm okay. Just kind of beat, I guess." He blinked a few times before he looked up at Spock with a surprised expression. "Sorry, I spaced out there for a second. You were saying?"

"No apologies are necessary. I merely asked after your well-being." 

"My well-being? Really, really well. Great, even." Jim nodded before suppressing a yawn.

Spock glanced at the two ensigns assigned to fly the shuttle back to the Enterprise. One of them gave him a tight smile as she tapped her fingertips against her PADD. "Captain, let us continue our conversation on Dekkord."

Jim looked at him blankly.

"The city at which we have landed," Spock reminded him.

"Oh, right!" He reached up and grabbed Spock's extended hand so that he could more easily get to his feet. 

When they reached the shuttle threshold, Spock looked down at their still-joined hands and cleared his throat. 

"Oh." Jim's eyes widened as his gaze followed Spock's. "Oh my god. Damn, I didn't even realize I hadn't, uh, let go." He laughed awkwardly as he extracted his hand. "Whoops."

"Captain, it would appear you are greatly fatigued. Where have you arranged accommodations? I will escort you there at once so that you may relax."

"What? No, I'm not going to waste my shore leave hanging around a hotel," Jim protested. "I'm going to grab a drink, or maybe head to that pavilion over there to see what kind of restaurants they've got. And then I'm going to check if any bands are playing concerts tonight before I ask about the good clubs in this city."

Spock drew himself up, clasping his hands behind his back. "Captain Kirk, permit me to state the facts. Your eyes have become glassy, you are not fully attuned to your surroundings, and, as I can attest because we recently touched hands, your palms have begun to perspire."

"Yikes," Jim muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "You sure know how to make a guy feel good, Spock."

"In short," Spock continued undeterred, "I believe you are exhausted and require sleep. Once I have seen you to your room, I will investigate what health professionals offer their services in this vicinity so that they may take measure of your condition."

"Spock, I'm fine," Jim insisted. "A little tired, sure, but nothing that some fun in the sun on...uh..."

"Dekkord," Spock supplied.

"On Dekkord can't cure." He clapped his hand to Spock's shoulder, but his grip was far less firm than customary. "Believe me, a couple of Samarian Sunsets, and I'll be as right as rain."

"The planet of Jonlow III is not known for its tropical climes. Additionally, there is only moderate-low to low rainfall in the city of Dekkord during this season. Furthermore, I question whether you ought to consume alcohol given your current state. In conclusion, your pursuit of 'fun' while you are weary seems not only a futile endeavor, but inadvisable to the cultivation of good health." 

"Spock. Figures of speech." Jim sighed and unsuccessfully attempted a carefree smile. "Look, don't worry about me. You go have an awesome time at your science thing. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Spock opened his mouth so that he might continue to debate his captain's fitness for holiday activities. But as it happened, he did not have to marshal further arguments. For as soon as Jim took a step away from him, his legs gave way and he collapsed onto the glittering purple ground for which Dekkord was known.

* * *

One hour later, Spock had installed Jim in his small suite of rooms at The Dekkord Concordance Spa & Hotel. 

A nurse stationed aboard The Enterprise, who had fortuitously lingered in the docking area, happened to observe Jim's collapse. He had at once offered to accompany them to ascertain the cause of Jim's fainting and companionably followed along as Spock carried Jim in his arms. 

As soon as Jim had regained consciousness, the nurse had performed a brief evaluation with his portable med-kit that concluded with the administration of several hyposprays.

"Vitamins to boost your immune system, and a little something to relieve the aches and pains plus bring down that low fever," Nurse Cortes explained to the captain. 

"Is it likely the captain will lose consciousness again?" Spock asked.

"Not really," Cortes said as he jotted something down on a PADD from his kit. "My guess is he's just been pushing himself a little too hard lately."

At this Jim gave an indignant sniff. But then he contorted his face oddly and sneezed three times in a row. Spock silently held out a nearby box of tissues. Jim took it with bad temper, clutching it to his chest, but at least he did retrieve several tissues so that he might blow his nose.

"Top off too much work and a severe sleep deficit with a bad rhinovirus, and sure, he got a little dizzy. But if he stays put and takes care of himself until he's on the mend, passing out won't be an issue."

"I'm right here," Jim complained. "You can tell me all this stuff directly."

Nurse Cortes, evidently used to difficult patients, nodded affably and turned to address Jim. "Mainly you'll need to rest, Captain. There's not much more we can do for a rhinovirus. You're on shore leave for the next seventy-two hours?" At Jim's irritable grunt, Cortes continued, "Well, then I recommend you spend all of it holed up here with the Commander, catching some _Z's_." 

Jim declined to answer, instead scowling and pointedly rubbing at the spot of his last hypospray insertion. 

"My lodgings are in a separate facility," Spock felt compelled to remark as he walked Cortes to the door. "At the Intergalactic Plaza just outside of Dekkord." 

Cortes quickly covered his look of surprise. "Oh, of course. You must be attending the Xenobiology conference they're holding."

"I had planned to." Spock paused. "Yet I wonder: should I stay and ensure the Captain rests?"

Cortes shrugged. "I'm sure he can manage that on his own. In any case, have a pleasant shore leave, Commander Spock."

* * *

After checking the conference schedule and determining he had more than sufficient time to assess the captain's situation further, Spock returned to the bedroom and sat on the chair facing the bed. 

"Captain, a point of clarification is in order. I am surprised Doctor McCoy approved your leave, given your clearly suboptimal state of health. What was his pronouncement on your condition prior to the shuttle boarding?" 

Jim sounded muffled when he spoke, most likely due to the large pile of blankets he had arranged atop himself. "Dunno. Dodged him."

"Dodged him," Spock repeated. 

"Well, about a half hour before departure I spotted him charging around, giving everyone the stink eye. So I ducked up one of the Jefferies Tubes to get to my quarters and pack before he could nab me."

Spock placed his hands flat on his thighs and breathed in and out several times. "You purposefully avoided your Chief Medical Officer when you knew yourself to be unusually fatigued, possibly risking the onset of an illness that might debilitate you or potentially endanger your crew and the population of this planet?"

"But I just felt a little tired," Jim protested. He shifted around until he created a small rill in the blankets to allow his voice better acoustical passage. "I didn't think I was sick!" 

"Precisely why you should have left the analysis of your health to a medical professional --" Spock began.

"Which I've now done, thanks to you. And at this point we know it's just a stupid cold. I'm not about to spread a plague or die a horrible painful death from the sniffles. So you don't have to hang around and keep lecturing me," Jim said sullenly. "Go hang out with your science pals and learn biological things."

Spock consulted the chronometer on his wrist. If he departed in the next thirty minutes, he would likely arrive at the conference in time for the opening address. There was no obvious reason he should remain. Nurse Cortes had not advised that Spock stay and care for Jim; Jim had by now declared that Spock should remove himself from the premises several times. Furthermore, the chance to attend scientifically significant presentations delivered by key figures in the Xenobiology field was a rare opportunity. 

Nonetheless, Spock he could not dismiss the instinct, as illogical as it seemed, that he should remain exactly where he was. 

A moment later, Jim's hand emerged from the pile of blankets and groped around. There were several wadded up tissues nearby, but whenever he encountered one, he merely knocked it aside. 

"What is it you seek?" Spock asked at last.

"Does this planet have some kind of ginger ale equivalent?" Jim asked pitifully. "Because that would be so perfect right now, some ginger ale."

"You thought you would discover a beverage already supplied atop the mattress?" Spock inquired.

The hand paused in its fumbling and made a confused gesture. "Well. Hoped?"

"I will inquire about deliveries," Spock said before he rose and strode out of the bedroom.

* * *

After Spock had ordered the captain a substantial supply of Zip (the Jonlowian beverage said to correspond most closely to the Earth drink known as ginger ale), and watched Jim drink three of the containers in rapid succession, he returned to the front of the suite and used the hotel's communicator to contact those in charge of the conference. 

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be somewhere else?" Jim asked from behind Spock.

"I had thought you were sleeping," Spock said as he restored the hotel communicator to its designated spot.

"Was. Woke up."

Spock turned to see Jim huddled in the doorway, his hair mussed from his nap, wearing loose athletic shorts (likely retrieved from his luggage) as well as a thick blanket draped about his shoulders. He had donned no other garments to replace his uniform. 

"But there was a thing you're supposed to do," Jim asked. His brow crinkled, as if attempting to summon the pertinent details of Spock's plan. Then he yawned, tugging the blanket closer to his bare chest. "Anyway, I feel exhausted. So you can trust me when I say I'm not about to go gallivanting around --" He paused and rolled his eyes.

"Dekkord," Spock supplied.

"Right, right. So you can go whenever, and not worry about me getting into bar fights or swindled by Ferengi merchants or married by mistake again." At the conclusion of this less than reassuring speech, Jim coughed several times and visibly shivered. 

"Might it not be appropriate to add a shirt to your ensemble, if you are cold?" Spock inquired. He averted his gaze. True, the folds of the blanket did mainly cover Jim's well-muscled form. Even had it not, Spock had over the course of several missions already viewed his captain's body in various stages of undress. But allowing his eyes to drift down Jim's torso seemed a different affair when Jim was unwell and consequently vulnerable. 

"First I'm too cold, and then I'm hot, and then I'm cold again. I'm layering for quick adjustments." Jim held his blanket out at his sides as though it were some sort of cape, flapping it to illustrate his point. Then he shivered again and pulled the blanket close.

Spock regarded his captain closely. Jim's state of mild confusion, coupled with the onset of new symptoms, did not bode well for his health. Though he currently appeared docile regarding the directive to remain in his room, Spock could envision that Jim might later falsely judge himself well enough to leave it, especially if he became increasingly febrile and discombobulated. Moreover, his recent avoidance of Doctor McCoy on the Enterprise served as a timely reminder that the captain could be less than forthcoming about his intentions once he had already decided on a course of action.

There was nothing for it. Spock would have to remain by his captain's side and forgo the conference activities. 

Strangely, instead of experiencing disappointment at the change in plans, Spock instantly became convinced this choice was by far the most rational. If Spock could in any way ameliorate the captain's condition, he deemed that a far more worthwhile endeavor than hearing presentations on concepts he could easily read about in the future. 

"Xenobiology conference!" Jim burst out.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry. I just remembered where it was you were off to." Jim grinned at him, but the effect was diminished when he pulled out a wad of tissues from his pocket and used them to wipe his reddened nose. "So you should probably take off, right?"

"Captain, have your aches and pains diminished?" Spock inquired.

"Mostly, I guess. Just..." He trailed off and began to frown.

"What is it?" Spock prompted.

"Look, weren't we talking about something else just a second ago? Are you trying to change the subject?" Jim demanded.

"Could you state for me the previous subject to which you refer?" Spock asked patiently.

When Jim knit his brow, looking puzzled, Spock repeated his initial question about Jim's aches.

"Mostly they're gone," Jim answered. "I've got a little headache. Whatever Cortes gave me definitely took the edge off. The rest of it will probably stick around until I'm a hundred percent again." He shrugged. "At least I don't feel my head throbbing when I'm sleeping."

"And yet you are not asleep now."

"Okay, fine. You got me there. I kind of couldn't sleep, what with the --"

"Headache," Spock supplied. He stood. "Assume a reclining position on the bed."

"Um. What?" Jim's blue eyes widened and he clutched his blanket tighter. 

"As we have established that rest is the best remedy, I will help you attain a more comfortable state so that you may sleep," Spock said patiently. "Now. Return to the bedroom at once."

Jim's face flushed.

"Has your fever increased?" Spock inquired. It seemed a strong likelihood his temperature was continuing to rise, for as soon as Spock asked the question, Jim's blush spread, fanning out across his bare chest.

"Um. No?" Jim croaked. He blew out a breath and raked his fingers through his now wildly-tousled hair.

"Other symptoms continue to manifest," Spock decided. "As I am sure you yourself can hear, your voice has become noticeably affected by this illness. Please proceed to the bed, and I will come shortly."

As he turned, Jim mumbled something under his breath. But given his words appeared to be the nonsensical utterance, "Oh my god, keep it together," Spock did not inquire after his meaning.

* * *

Spock quickly delivered a second message to the conference organizers asking them to disregard his earlier message about being delayed, and stating definitively that he would now be unable to attend.

When he returned to the bedroom, he expected Jim would have already tunneled under his many blankets. Instead, Spock discovered Jim sprawled on his back atop the covers, his arms flung out to his sides.

"Oh, hey," Jim said hastily when he saw Spock in the doorway. He partly raised himself on his elbows and made to grab a blanket. "Sorry."

"There is no need to apologize. You are obviously quite hot," Spock said. "Remain in your state of semi-nudity."

Jim huffed out a surprised laugh before shaking his head. "Yeah, I overheated again." He let go of the blanket and crossed his arms across his bare chest. "Uh, but if you want, I can cover up. I bet I threw some t-shirts in my duffel."

"There is no need. Your current attire will suffice for what I am about to do," Spock told him. He moved to the bed and sat down.

"Whoa," Jim said weakly. "I might seriously be hallucinating right now."

Spock tamped down on his mild apprehension at this alarming pronouncement and ordered, "Report what it is you see."

"Um, you're on the bed with me?" Jim said incredulously.

"Ah." Spock glanced down at himself before again meeting Jim's gaze. "In this case, you are not in error. I have indeed joined you on the bed."

"Oh, okay. So that's good," Jim said, though his voice broke on the last word.

"We will address the issues of your incipient laryngitis at a later time," Spock said. He moved to sit at Jim's side and began to place his fingertips at Jim's temples.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jim blurted out, scrambling away from Spock. He blinked rapidly at him. "I really don't think I'm up for any kind of meld action, even if you think that might help? My head's a mess right now, not just stuffed up but all fogged over. You probably don't want to go poking around in there."

"You misunderstand," Spock told him calmly, though in truth he had been somewhat startled when Jim clambered to the other side of the bed. "To begin with, I would not initiate a meld without your express consent."

"Sure. That makes sense." Jim's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. "So if that wasn't about to ramp up into a meld..."

"I had planned merely to massage your temples to alleviate your headache."

"Really? Wow, that's..." Jim's eyes flickered to Spock's fingertips and back to his face. "You don't have to do that."

"It is a logical method to ease your discomfort."

Jim stared for a few moments more before his lips turned up slightly. "How do you figure that's logical? It just doesn't seem very Vulcan -- don't get me wrong," Jim added when Spock frowned. "But I can't picture Vulcans lounging around giving each other head massages."

"My mother employed the technique when I experienced similar pains as a child," Spock said stiffly.

"Oh." Jim's smile softened. "Of course. That's really -- I'm honored, that you would offer to do that for me."

Spock cleared his throat. "Very well. Shall we proceed?"

"Sure, let's do this." The conversation appeared to have tired Jim, for he closed his eyes and let his arms rest at his sides. This time he made no further reaction when he felt Spock's fingertips. 

Spock began to administer light pressure gradually, not wanting to apply too much force. But as he rubbed in slow circles, Jim murmured, "Mmmm...that's really nice."

As his touch was not fashioned to be 'nice,' precisely, Spock did not reply. But he supposed that the partial alleviation of an ache must register as pleasure for humans.

"You can press a little harder," Jim offered. His mouth had gone slightly slack when Spock recommenced the massage. "Like that..."

Spock followed his directive and alternated between gentle touches and more purposeful digital manipulation. 

"Unh, that's amazing," Jim said in a low voice after several minutes had passed. He seemed entirely relaxed now, his fingers lax, his chest rising and falling at regular intervals. 

The word _Indeed_ very nearly passed Spock's lips before he called it back. Though he had anticipated the pressure would address Jim's discomfort, he had not accounted for the exercise's positive impact on himself. As he continued his attentions, serenity spread gradually through his mind and being, as though he had engaged in a period of light but restorative meditation. 

His vigilance in monitoring Jim's symptoms had also yielded an unexpected result: a growing appreciation for Jim's appealing attributes, which seemed to Spock had been rather highlighted instead of diminished by Jim's ailment. 

For the compromise to Jim's immune system had not impacted the softness of his skin. In point of fact, Spock could not help but appreciate the pleasing supple quality as he continued his massaging. Nor had Jim's illness detracted from his other handsome features. His disheveled hair, as well as his lashes whenever they brushed his cheeks lightly, seemed a burnished gold in the room's low light. His lips, slightly dry though they had become, looked even more attractively full at close range. Spock found himself watching with avid attention each time Jim's tongue darted out to wet them. Even the barest hint of fever did not detract from Jim's overall appearance; rather, his face seemed to glow.

Jim let out a soft sigh and stretched languidly.

Spock slowed his massage. The tense emotions he had fleetingly detected from Jim at the start -- worry, agitation, discontentment -- had given way to tranquility and lassitude. Such an indication of increased well-being was more than sufficient to indicate they had reached the appropriate conclusion of their treatment.

But when Spock began to draw his hands away, he found himself irrationally focusing on the blond strands gathered in tousled curls on Jim's forehead. Without thinking, Spock brushed them back carefully, combing his fingers through Jim's mussed hair. 

"Hmmm," Jim hummed.

Spock rested his fingertips once more at Jim's temples as he regarded Jim's peaceful expression. 

Suddenly he felt a rush of affectionate feelings -- no, not merely affectionate, but romantic at their very core. He froze in place before he snatched his hands back.

"Wha-hmmm?" Jim inquired sleepily. 

Spock cleared his throat, trying to summon an appropriate answer that would not betray his discovery.

"Thanks," Jim murmured in the lull that followed. He yawned, but did not open his eyes. "Might just...a little nap..."

A few moments later, his breathing evened out and his body relaxed completely.

Spock stood, tugging at his uniform tunic to smooth it though in fact it needed no such correction. Once at the doorway, he hesitated. But Jim was fully asleep, and so Spock slowly left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

While Jim slept, Spock might have brooded for some time over his shock at the shift in feelings he had detected. He also might have fully examined his unintended but nonetheless very regrettable disregard of personal boundaries. 

As soon as he reached the sitting area of the suite, however, he received a notification on his Starfleet-issued communicator alerting him to contact Med Bay.

"Doctor," he said in response to McCoy's barked greeting. "Is there an emergency aboard the ship?"

"No, everything's fine and dandy up here. But I want an update on Jim's condition." 

"Nurse Cortes alerted you, I presume?"

"No, the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus left me a love note about it under my pillow," McCoy snapped. "How's he doing?"

"Though he remains slightly congested, and until recently complained of a headache, I believe the captain's current slumber will aid his ultimate recovery."

A snort sounded on the other end. "He's finally sleeping, you mean."

"Indeed. I can hear his heavier than normal respiration from the next room."

"Snoring away, eh? Well, good. There's not much else we can do for a cold. Still, Jim always thinks he can cure himself of anything with some swagger and a smile, so I need to keep tabs on him. At least you're right there to make sure he doesn't wander off." McCoy paused. "You are right there, aren't you?"

"I can assure you, Doctor, I am here, and doing my utmost to ensure Captain Kirk's quick return to health. I have procured a variety of food items from the hotel's restaurant that should boost his immune system. I have adjusted his environment for optimal well-being, setting the temperature and air flow systems of the suite appropriately." 

Spock halted for a moment, unsure if he ought to mention the head massage. Of course he had undertaken it in aid of bettering of Jim's condition. Yet the feelings Spock had unexpectedly perceived at its close made the experience far more private than he would have first assumed.

However, Doctor McCoy was the captain's physician. Spock should relay any information that might enable a thorough diagnosis. So he took a breath and added, "I should also note I employed a technique to shorten the duration and severity of the captain's headache. I believe it assisted him in achieving a healthful sleep pattern."

"A technique to --" McCoy blustered something incomprehensible before he burst out, "What are you talking about, some kind of Vulcan voodoo?"

"Certainly not," Spock said quickly. "In fact, my understanding is that it is a Terran practice in origin. I simply utilized a skillful and deliberate positioning of fingertips at the temples of the head in order to assuage any lingering discomfort."

"A head rub," McCoy said. "You gave Jim a head rub?"

Spock suppressed a sigh. "That is one way of characterizing the treatment."

"Let me get this straight. You're hovering around him like a mother hen, adjusting everything just so, stocking up on food to help him get well. You skipped out on the conference you've been looking forward to for ages --because don't for a second think I've forgotten that was your original plan -- to keep him company while he snoozes. And now you're giving him head rubs?"

"Do you truly wish me to reiterate my actions now that you have repeated them, Doctor?" 

"Well, now," McCoy said. From his voice alone Spock could picture him smiling mischievously. "You sure have it bad, Spock."

Spock arched a brow even though McCoy could not view his expression. "You misunderstand, Doctor. I do not 'have it bad,' for I am not suffering from the same illness as the captain at all, let alone to an extreme degree. In fact, I believe my Vulcan constitution resists this type of infection, though I admit I do not possess all the data to confirm that theory at the present time."

McCoy laughed so heartily that Spock briefly held the communicator away from his ear. 

"Sure, Spock, that's what I was talking about," McCoy said finally, his voice heavy with irony. "Your susceptibility to illness."

"Is that not the topic of our current discussion?" Spock asked. 

"Oh, for the love of -- I don't have time to play games with you. Tell you what; you let Jim know I support all the coddling you're doing. Lord knows he doesn't get enough sleep normally, and what with all our back-to-back missions, I'm surprised he hasn't come down with something sooner. Unless his health worsens, in which case I expect you to alert me immediately, I'll see you when you return to the ship. McCoy out."

Spock frowned at his device when their contact was ended. It was an irrational response to be certain, as the communicator was not responsible for his frustrations. 

In the interests of full accuracy, though, Spock had to admit that even McCoy's cantankerous bombast was not fully to blame for his vexation. 

He stood and paced along the length of the room several times. Had the situation been otherwise, he might have availed himself of the opportunity to meditate. Such an absorbed state would in all probability allow him to examine his inexcusable behavior and order his thoughts. But Spock did not wish Jim to wake in need of anything when he could not instantly respond. 

With no other outlet for his disquiet, he decided to peer back into the bedroom to assess Jim's status.

At some point Jim had kicked off his various bed coverings and flopped onto his stomach. His hands were shoved under the pillows above his head, his flushed cheek rested on the mattress, and he wheezed as he breathed loudly. To Spock's relief, judging by the intensity of his sleep, Jim appeared somewhat improved.

His eyes drifted down Jim's body. While obviously not entirely necessary, surely such a survey could be justified, for in gauging Jim's posture and coloration, he might more easily assess Jim's health. 

Little excuse could be made, however, for him gazing intently at Jim's backside, which shifted slightly as Jim unconsciously adjusted his positioning, no doubt seeking greater comfort. Without the obstruction of the bedclothes, Spock could easily observe that Jim's athletic shorts had begun to ride low on his hips, emphasizing the swell of his buttocks. 

Heat rose to Spock's cheeks and his heart rate increased. If Doctor McCoy had been present, perhaps he would have taken such signs as evidence Spock was vulnerable to Jim's affliction after all.

* * *

For a time Spock managed to occupy his attention by following posted updates about the science conference. He also made use of the interval by reading a backlog of scholarly articles he had been intending to review.

Yet he could not entirely avoid dwelling on his transgression. Spock's accidental invasion of Jim's thoughts, particularly when he had assured Jim only moments before that he would not attempt to meld with him, was a grievous violation.

Of course, fleeting detection of surface emotions was almost inevitable when a Vulcan touched another. But Spock did not regard such moments of minor discovery as genuine trespasses. In fact, he counted them as valuable tools for productive interactions with humans. The feelings he glimpsed were only the most easily accessible, the ones likely plainly visible to most humans in each other's expressions. That ability for the majority of Terrans to glance at others and decide if their companions were unhappy or enthusiastic or skeptical was as natural a method of interaction to them as moments of negligible understanding afforded by brief contact was to Spock. 

Anything further than that basic level of detection, however, seemed to Spock highly inappropriate. The closest human parallel, he imagined, would be deliberate eavesdropping, or unapproved perusal of someone's personal journal. 

The fact was, in a moment of distraction, while he had focused so intently on Jim, Spock had discerned private feelings. He would not allow himself to consider what to do with that information, not when it had been wrongly gained. 

And yet, should he not deliberate over how Jim's strong feelings might impact their working relationship? To do otherwise would be to ignore essential information, not a practice Spock would recommend to anyone, much less employ himself. 

Whether he himself reciprocated such feelings...

Irrelevant. He must not entertain such thoughts. Just as his comprehension of those feelings had been fleeting, so too those very emotional reactions Jim projected could have been ephemeral. After the exhaustion and discomfort of poor health, Jim could have experienced such romantic inclinations in that moment alone, a temporary product of febrile contentment and ordinary gratitude. In support of this supposition, Spock had read of patients who harbored amorous inclinations toward their caregivers. According to those accounts, such feelings typically dissipated once those patients were again fully healed and able to remove themselves from medical stewardship. 

The appropriate action at this point, then, would be to inform Jim of Spock's behavior and assure him of two things. One, that Spock understood the seriousness of his misconduct. And two, that Spock fully comprehended the likelihood that Jim's brief experience of romantic feelings were without substance. 

His mission was simple, but the mode of undertaking it seemed to him somewhat delicate. There was no doubt that Spock would need additional time to judge how to approach this challenging subject.

At that moment, Jim emerged from the bedroom, yawning and stretching. 

If Spock had thought Jim's hair had appeared mussed earlier, that was nothing to the way it stuck up in odd tufts now. Spock's fingers twitched with the urge to smooth it -- another indication that he was still currently afflicted by inappropriate reactions to proper boundaries.

He tightened his lips, and made certain when he looked at Jim, it was with a highly professional demeanor. 

"Hey, Spock." Jim scratched at his side as he yawned once more. He glanced down, apparently noticing that he was not wearing a shirt. "Whoops? Sorry. Let me just --" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and retreated to the bedroom.

Spock suppressed the inclination to tell Jim such impulses to cover himself were unnecessary, that he ought to think only of his own comfort. In actuality, a more formal guise would be preferable considering the problematic topic Spock had to address. 

When Jim rejoined Spock, he had pulled on an overly large faded Starfleet Medical sweatshirt. He flopped down in one of the chairs and glanced around the room. "Well, if I've got to be sick, at least it's here instead of stuck on some biobed in Med Bay."

"How do you feel at this time?" Spock asked cautiously. Though he felt compelled to discuss his misstep as soon as possible, it would be unwise to proceed before Jim was well enough to comprehend its gravity.

Jim tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "I kind of feel like a truck ran me over. But better, you know?"

"In support of your assessment, your coloring appears improved." 

"Yeah, I think I'm definitely on the mend. I'm even hungry now." He cast a glance at the door. "Hey, I don't suppose I can convince you --"

"I have already obtained several dishes that should prove both appealing and wholesome," Spock interrupted. "There is no need to leave the suite." 

Jim laughed ruefully. "No use trying to coax you out so we can go to a cool restaurant, is there?"

"There is not," Spock confirmed. "But if you will relax for a few moments, I will arrange a meal for you."

"And for you, right? I mean, we should eat together."

Spock hesitated. On the basis of his earlier inappropriate behavior, he was inclined to refuse. He could not give Jim back the privacy of his thoughts, but certainly he could allow him sufficient personal space now. Yet without knowing the details of Spock's mistake, his captain would find it strange if Spock insisted they dine separately. "Very well."

"Great." Jim leaned his head back on his chair and closed his eyes; apparently even though his health was improving, this short exchange had entailed undue exertion.

Spock reheated several dishes and placed them on a table at the side of the room. After adjusting two chairs at either end, he positioned bowls and eating implements at their places. Though he briefly contemplated moving the small vase holding flowers already on the table, Spock dismissed the urge as unnecessary. The decoration was already in place; to remove it would be to cast more significance on its presence than it ought to possess.

"The meal is ready," Spock announced.

Jim sat up, blinking. When he saw the table, his eyes flickered to the small vase and a smile spread over his face. "Hey, it's almost like we're at a nice restaurant. Thanks."

Spock turned away, busying himself with ladling out the soup. "It is of no consequence."

"I appreciate everything you've been doing, though," Jim insisted. "I know I get grumpy when I'm sick, and you've been fantastic through it all."

The clarification that Spock had not been as Jim said, "fantastic," would have to wait. Given his still-exhausted state, no doubt Jim would wish to rest again after their meal. Spock's detailed apology would be best delivered after that additional slumber. Rather than speak, then, he gestured for Jim to take his seat. 

Once they began to eat, it was clear Jim had not exaggerated his hunger. He quickly finished off two bowls of soup, murmuring his thanks when Spock doled out more.

After some time, though, Jim set down his spoon. "You know, I passed out so fast, I didn't get to thank you for that amazing head rub. I doubt I could have slept that well without it, so seriously, thanks."

Before Spock could decide how to respond, Jim added, "I should apologize to you, though."

Spock looked up sharply. "That is unnecessary."

"No, it's very necessary," Jim said in a rush. "I should have known you weren't going to try to meld us. I assumed, and that's completely unfair. If there's one thing I know for sure about you, Spock, it's that you're always on the up-and-up. I didn't mean to act like I didn't trust you."

Spock sat very still. It seemed he could delay his declaration of guilt no longer.

"Spock?" Jim ventured. 

"I am the one who must seek forgiveness," Spock said.

Jim shook his head. "You've been nothing but awesome; what could you possibly have done --"

"When I concluded the massage, though I did not initiate a meld, I did detect emotions beyond mere surface feelings. In the interests of full disclosure, I must tell you that those feelings were...romantic in nature."

Jim stared at him with his lips parted. 

"Despite my understanding that you are not fully recovered, and thus not entirely capable of considering this thoroughly, I deem it important to address the issue so that further transgressions might be avoided." 

Perhaps it was because Jim's coloring had improved overall that Spock could easily observe him growing pale now. "What did you -- I mean, um." Jim ducked his head to cough several times into the crook of his elbow. When he looked up, he was red-faced. "Um. Did you want to -- should I apologize for the stuff you caught me thinking?" 

Spock shook his head. "Jim, the feelings I detected, transitory as they likely are, are not the germane issue --"

"You don't have to do anything, though, I swear," Jim added, speaking at the same time as Spock. "I promise not to make it a thing. I mean, just because I'm, uh. Feeling romantic?" His voice cracked on the last word. "That's no reason for anything between us to change."

"You misunderstand," Spock told him, raising his voice so that Jim would hear.

"Of course I do," Jim muttered. 

"The pertinent matter is not the nature of your thoughts, but my inappropriate behavior. I allowed myself to become inexcusably distracted --"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second. Back up. Did you just say _transitory_ a couple of seconds ago?" Jim demanded. 

"Affirmative. But captain, if you would allow me to continue --"

"No, not when you've got some misunderstandings of your own. Fine, so it's embarrassing as hell you figured out I've got feelings for you. But I get it, you're Vulcan, and it's probably hard not to pick up on feelings if you touch people for more than a moment. I can deal with that part. But even if what I feel makes you uncomfortable, you don't get to tell me that those emotions are temporary." 

"I did not mean to --"

"No. No. Let me finish." He glared at Spock for several uncomfortable moments before he burst out, "I've been half in love with you for way too long to let you wave me aside like this, okay? I can tell you've got excuses percolating in that brain of yours explaining away what you sensed, and I want you to quit it. This isn't because I'm sick and foggy-headed and saying things without thinking it through, and it's not because I'm vulnerable and you've been sticking around helping me out. It's because you're _you_ , and I can't help it, all right?" He closed his eyes and touched his temples briefly. "Like I already said, I won't let it ruin our command team. But the other side of that coin is that you don't get to tell me I don't know my own heart."

Spock forced himself to wait until Jim had finished speaking. If the captain would only pay heed to Spock's full explanation, the matter could be discussed productively. But instead, as he so often did, Jim insisted on interrupting and foregrounding his own point of view, disregarding Spock's carefully considered key points. Though Vulcans did not experience frustration as humans did, Spock had to admit he could understand that particular emotion quite well, in large part because of the man before him.

Yet even as Spock could sense his annoyance growing, when he looked at Jim -- wan and irritated and, in truth, patently ridiculous appearing with his wildly mussed hair and in the ill-fitting garment he had no doubt stolen from Doctor McCoy -- Spock could also identify a highly irregular surge of positive feeling...in himself. 

It was as though he had absorbed the intensely affectionate feelings he had detected earlier, embodying them. His heart beat faster, he yearned to lean forward and take Jim's hand, and he gazed on Jim with fondness in spite of his own annoyance, and found him pleasing even though Jim currently had a reddened nose and slightly bloodshot eyes.

Yet realistically, such a transfer of feelings was impossible at the moment, for there was no physical contact between them. He could only conclude that --

"I am mistaken," Spock said suddenly. 

Jim's expression changed instantly from fierce resolve to confusion. "Okay," he said. "That's something I don't get to hear too often. About which part?" 

"When I detected the feelings," Spock said. He averted his gaze while he tried to organize his thoughts. "I assumed I had delved into your thoughts intrusively even without a meld. I did not recognize the more obvious deduction, that the romantic thoughts originated with myself rather than with you."

Now that he had admitted his failing, he could assess his behavior from that day alone and find additional evidence with ease. How he had wished to avoid his colleagues on the shuttle in order to learn more about Jim's well-being; how he had so quickly convinced himself to avoid attending a notable conference so that he might stay by Jim's side; how even Doctor McCoy had, as it turned out, astutely assessed Spock's state of mind to declare that Spock had it "bad." 

His lack of perception regarding his own sentiments was astonishing.

"Spock," Jim said softly. 

When Spock looked up, still experiencing a degree of befuddlement, Jim leaned forward. 

"So you thought one thing and it turned out to be another," Jim began. "But you don't have to sit there looking like someone just took the very last container of Zip."

Spock's brow furrowed. "It stands to reason I do not, as there are many cases of Zip remaining."  
"Right," Jim said. His lips twitched slightly. "My point is...because you told me about a mistake you thought made, you found out that I really like you. And now that we've hashed it out more, I know that you really like me. Plus, we're here all alone in this hotel on --" He paused and rolled his eyes. 

"Dekkord," Spock supplied automatically.

"And what do you know, we have days of shore leave ahead of us." Jim grinned. "This is an incredibly good thing." 

Spock nodded slowly as he watched Jim's attractive features become further enhanced by his smile. He still felt somewhat puzzled that he had so completely confused his own emotions with Jim's. Yet he had not confused them, not precisely -- for now they had both spoken out, and obviously they shared these feelings. Perhaps in that startling moment of detection, what had caused Spock's error had been this entirely unexpected reciprocation, the brief melding of their heretofore unknown high regard for one another. 

Ultimately, he concluded, it did not matter. This was, as Jim pointed out, a highly positive and satisfactory development. 

Spock took a deep breath. "I concur with your assessment of our circumstances, Jim."

Unaccountably, Jim laughed. Before Spock could feel flustered at this reaction, though, Jim added, "I have to say, when I thought about the remote chance that we'd ever end up in a situation like this, I didn't see myself wearing knock-around clothes and looking like total crap."

"You do not look like total crap," Spock assured him. He hesitated for only a second before he extended his hand across the table. "I find you most appealing; your attire and state of health do not impact my positive impression." 

Jim smiled as he slid his hand into Spock's and watched as they began to caress their fingers. For a few moments, as they stroked their fingers together, Spock relished the hints of contentment he could detect. 

Then Jim looked up, his eyes trained on Spock's mouth, his eyes slightly dazed. All at once, the mood shifted to one of greater intensity. Spock felt a slight flutter in his side.

But then Jim's entire face twitched. When he clearly could suppress the impulse no longer, he yawned widely. "Ugh, god, I'm so sorry. You know what I also didn't think about when I imagined us together for the first time? Me feeling like I'm about to collapse any second."

"I think it best if you return to the bed," Spock said gently. He stood up, still holding Jim's hand. "I will accompany you," he added to forestall any objections. 

Jim grinned as he rose from his chair. "Well, hey, things are looking up already."

"I will accompany you to rest," Spock told him. 

Jim's lower lip jutted out ever so slightly. "Seriously? I know I'm tired, but trust me, I can wake up for this."

"You are still unwell." 

"Fine, you win again." Jim turned and went into the bedroom alone.

By the time Spock had cleared away their meal and entered the next room, Jim was sitting on the bed looking sheepish.

"I'm honestly not this bratty usually," Jim began.

"I had observed that to be true the great majority of the time," Spock agreed.

Jim laughed. "Really, I don't mean to sulk. It's just..." He trailed off, looking up at Spock with beseeching blue eyes.

"I commiserate with your dislike of waiting. It would be most agreeable to embark upon a physically intimate expression of our feelings towards one another."

"Okay, even when I'm exhausted, when you say things like 'embark upon a physically intimate expression' --" Jim said in a wheedling tone.

"No, Jim."

Jim did not pout this time, which was just as well, as Spock had found the expression surprisingly enticing. "Worth a try." 

They got under the covers together, though not before Spock had carefully folded his uniform shirt along with his trousers and left them on the side table, leaving him only in his black undershirt and regulation briefs.

Jim blinked at him with eyes both bleary and rueful. "Now I know for sure I'm under the weather. Even though I want to jump you more than ever, I also want to sleep for a thousand hours." 

Spock did not reply. Instead he nudged gently so that Jim would turn to relax on his side and Spock could curl himself close, his arm wrapped protectively around his captain's chest.

"If I've got to sleep instead of doing something more fun, this is a pretty nice way to do it," Jim murmured. He laced his fingers with Spock's. 

"Though I am not strictly in need of rest as you are, I am pleased that we can experience this close proximity as well," Spock agreed.

"Hmmm," Jim hummed, stretching slightly in Spock's embrace. "Spock?" he slurred out a few minutes later. "When I've kicked this cold, though --"

"Then we can certainly explore multiple varieties of sexual congress."

"I better hurry up and get well, then," Jim mumbled.

"Indeed," Spock whispered, brushing a kiss against the back of his warm neck as Jim dropped off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! [I'm on tumblr](http://entrenous88.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat or see lots of Star Trek fangirling and writing angst and posts about how great coffee is.


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